


Checkmate

by bizarreplatinum



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizarreplatinum/pseuds/bizarreplatinum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He left his snowy distant village to pursue his dream of becoming a Knight in the royal capital, what he didn't expect was how royalty would mould that dream into something much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under the Blazing Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired largely by tinyjing's (http://tinyjing.tumblr.com/) prince AU with a lot of idea's contributed by Piano.  
> Whoo! Baby's first multichapter fic.

The heat from the blazing Gongagan sun is scalding. Through his armour it's almost unbearable, each inch of metal plate nearly searing the joints they cover as they move to bring his sword down in front of him. Light refracting off of his blade as he repeats a well practised training pattern over and over again is a mild nuisance compared to the sweat that's steadily dribbling through his brow, down the bridge of his nose and pooling on the underside of his chin.

Cloud Strife isn't use to this kind of heat, after all he's from Nibleheim, thousands of miles away and nestled deep between mountains, blanketed in tundra. He's grown adapted to a village caked in ice and snow, the air as bitter as its inhabitants and dry unlike the humid temperate climate he's training in now.

He brings the sword down fiercely from where it had been above his ahead once again, blinking sweat from his vision and allowing thoughts of removing his armour to tempt him momentarily. It's heavy as hell, and he's barely able to move in it at all. His peers around him – fellow trainee's for the royal guardian corps – have already discarded theirs in favour of less strenuous training sessions.

Knowing how he's compared to all of them, that's he's seen as weaker, a _runt_ , shakes the urge from him. They are heavier and taller than he is. Many of the can run for miles in this heat while clothed in similar unbearable caskets of metal. The selection process they'll all face will be tight and tough, but he's determined not to be outshone by any of them. He knows he has to work hard, far harder than any of them if he's going to make it to where he wants to be.

Because failure isn't an option, and returning home to his far off backwater home town is the last thing he wants. He's hated back there, and even here too he's already made enemies. The guards find him “ _pretty_ ”, he's heard, in a castle where women are scarce, and the rumours of him sleeping his way into the ranks haven't flown over his head. Cloud promises himself he'll earn his place, just to prove them all wrong.

The claymore sings through the air once more as he repeats the movement, correcting his stance once more the way he'd been taught., balls of his toes firmly planted in the boots he has pressed against the dust, elbows at ninety. He'll show them, he'll work his way to the top on his own merit, and not through nepotism or favours.

“Aren't you boiling like that?”, a voice near him rings. He quickly finds himself dragging his eyes away from the ground he hadn't realized he'd been so focused on to meet the gaze of it's owner.

As if of its own accord, he finds his body knelt in the dust, right fist planted firmly against his chest, and his head bowed so low the sweat from it dotting the dirt beneath him.

“Majesty”, tumbles the title from his lips instinctively. How had he not noticed the crown prince Zack Fair of all people approaching him!

“Please please! At ease! Stand!”, the Prince's voice, light and airy, pleads. Cloud lets himself drink in the vision of bronzed sun-kissed skin, decorated with a goofy wide smile as he brings himself back to his feet.

“Forgive me Majesty”, he chokes, throat suddenly abhorrently dry “I didn't... I was not aware of your presence”

He forces himself to avoid his masters bright cerulean gaze, instead focusing on the onlookers around them. His squad mates continued to train, but the curiosity on their faces was indicative of how they too were yearning to know what had brought royalty out into their humble training yard.

“Don't worry yourself,” the prince answers warmly with a hearty chuckle “I only wished to ask why you were wearing your full suit. Does the temperature not bother you? You'll be on your way to heat stroke if you remain like that.”

He releases a shaky breath, suddenly more nervous than he's been his entire life, although he's partially unsure as to why.

“I was about to remove it majesty,” he lies.

The prince laughs again, his tall frame shaking gently. Very suddenly he's invading Clouds personal space, long dark locks kissing the wind as well manicured hands manoeuvre to unclasp the belts holding armour in place.

“Let me help you then” he says brightly, before Cloud finds himself stumbling backwards, just out of arms reach, like he's been burned.

“No,” he chokes, meeting the princes flabbergasted gaze. “No majesty, I couldn't let yo-”

He is silenced by his Lords full body giggling. Tanned hands grasp at the silken robes decorating his waist as his body shakes with the effort to contain his laughter. Cloud could otherwise find Prince Fairs childish form – doubled over himself in a fit of noise he could seemingly barely contain – amusing, if he wasn't so confused as to what the hell was going on.

“I'm sorry,” the prince wheezes, a hand freeing itself to wipe an unbidden tear at his eye “It's just that, nobody has ever been so bold as to say no to me before.”

The lowly knight-in-training feels his blood run ice cold and his heart stammer in its cage. The prince is royalty. To defy someone like him, a leader by birthright, was treasonous. In other regions such acts were punishable by death. And to think the prince was laughing! _Laughing!_ He's horrified, truly terrified, to think of what unbidden anger must hide behind so peaceful a sound.

But in the same instant it seemed that the prince had become acutely aware of his unrest.

“oh...Oh!” he rambles furtively, gesturing wildly in apparent dismay. “No! I mean, it wasn't a bad thing...” He trails as if he himself is unsure of what he means.

“Majesty?” Cloud lets himself enquire hesitantly. The prince perks up at his more positive change in demeanour, resuming his ministrations to undo every belt and buckle and on his chest plate with absolute care and refusing to let a single piece of gear escape his grasp.

“It's nice you know,” the Prince continues as he makes quick work of the plate. “To be treated like a real person. Not someone revered... like a god.”

“But to us commoners, you're practically divine!” Cloud finds himself blurting thoughtlessly. Royalty of any sort were deeply revered by all for their power, riches and beauty. The prince before him was no exception: renown world wide for his charm and wits, his rumoured hidden fierceness when it came to maintaining order and honour was something Cloud would secretly profess to admiring. It was often rumoured that should (or was it when) Prince Fair wed and became king that the power he'd hold over the continent would be insurmountable.

The prince sighs softly, settling the last of Cloud's remaining armour at his feet, looking far more deflated than the pinnacle of a human being he was thought – no, _expected_ – to be.

“In the end I really am just a person,” he sighs softly, meeting Clouds gaze with a closed off gaze. “I'm grateful for the things I've had in life of course, but I'd give anything to experience even a fraction of a normal life. Even just for a day.”

He casts a forlorn gaze back towards the other trainees still littering the yard, long since returned to their training and no longer interested in what had pre-occupied royalty for the moment.

“To have someone treat me like just another person. To train outside with a sword. To have friends..” His eyes roam the courtyard grounds until they finally return to rest on Cloud solemnly.

“I'm sorry,” is all his Majesty says weakly, shrinking back away. “I should not have disturbed you so. It just seemed so odd that one as small as yourself would be so determined as to train in full armour in this weather.”

Cloud finds himself replying with snark almost immediately, a bad habit formed from years of social exclusion in his home town. His only defense mechanism against even the smallest micro aggression.

“Yes well, someone like myself doesn't have what it takes to make it as a guard so I have to work hard so I can get there,” He spits thoughtlessly, immediately filled with regret. To his surprise Prince Fair doesn't retort nor does he recoil, instead he flashes Cloud a weary smile.

“It seems like you've had it rough hey? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke at a sore spot,” He whispers, allowing himself to take a pace backwards. “I will leave you,” He continues. “To your trai-”

“M-Majesty!” Cloud shouts, his feet unconsciously closing the distance between them. “Please forgive me for my outburst Majesty” He bows his head in shame. This is not once but twice now that he's directly defied royalty. And in the same day, no less. The small smile on the princes face does not waver, in fact Cloud could swear it turns into a smirk.

“I'll forgive you,” the prince answers suddenly, with rekindled mirth. “but only if you'll let me stay here and join you.”

He tilts his head to the side. Even though the words are a borderline threat, considering the alternatives, Cloud knows he's being given the option to refuse. The kind gentle soul in front him is giving him an out if he so chooses it, but is also offering a chance at a spar.

He wont let himself smile, even though the offer is warming the centre of his chest, but he will indulge the guy after all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They fight leisurely beneath the warmth of the sun. The Prince Fair has shed his long silken robes in favour of basking his bare, sweat skin of his broad chest to glisten in the rays.

Cloud notes that he's never seen such skill with a blade, not amongst his own squad at least, nor even amongst his commanders. His majesty parries his every swing effortlessly, as if he could be sleeping and it would make none the difference. As he casually pushes Cloud backwards on the defense it's as if the training sword they've commandeered for him is an extension of his own arm. The sword and its beholder dance through the air as if enchanted and Cloud knows he'd be memorized by every movement if he were not so focused on deflecting each strike.

“Where did you learn to fight like that majesty?” he asks the prince when they pause momentarily to catch their breath.

“What, are you that surprised I know how?” the prince retorts, a hand reaching to wipe his brow

“This kingdom has been at peace since I was a child, it's not like you have any need.”

The prince laughs.

“And with that being so, then why do you train? Why hone skills to guard a palace that hasn't known war?”

“Because I want to help keep it that way,” Cloud huffs, arms falling into a shrug while he lets his sword clatter to the ground for the time being. The prince raises his arms in mock defeat.

“Alright, Alright... I give, I give!” He beams playfully and Cloud suddenly isn't so sure that the burning sensation on his face is just from the sunburn he's been developing over the past few hours.

“I was forbidden from using weapons as a kid,” Prince Fair continues. “My parents were desperate to keep me away from the types of battles they had dealt with before I was born. They didn't want me to be messing around with weapons or other dangerous things.”

His expression becomes mournful briefly.

“After they... Well, it doesn't matter really, but I thought it was silly that someday I'm gonna be king and will have to take charge of the military when I don't even know how to fight myself.”

Cloud finds himself nodding unconsciously. He can appreciate the sentiment of needing equivalent strength to help others.

“So you trained yourself?”

The prince shakes his head.

“No, I had... have... a teacher. The best of the best, really. He's incredibly strict, but unbelievably good at what he does, speaking of which,” His gaze lifts to scan the courtyard walls. Atop them, guards rotating for the start of the evening shift swap places. “I should probably go looking for him, he'll be looking for me right now, he's also kind of my baby sitter.”

Truly, Cloud had no idea what to make of such statements, but it seemingly didn't matter as the prince was abruptly collecting his belongings, apparently intending to make a hasty escape.

“Thank you Majesty!” he called after him “For sparring with me. It was an honour, really.”

“No problem,” came the relaxed reply with a wave of a jewelled hand “Rather, I should thank you for indulging me. Lets train together again some time.. ah...”

“Cloud, Majesty. Cloud Strife” he repeated.

“Cloud,” the prince repeated back “I'll come bother you again soon then, Cloud.”

Cloud could feel himself breaking into a comfortable smirk.

“Don't make a habit of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the stage is set. Hopefully that wasn't too much of an info dump.  
> I can't say when the next update will be, but likely it will be these two getting to know each other so I can shovel the plot along as I please.


	2. Moonlight Sonata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince participates in their secret ritual and gets to know Cloud a little better.

It turns out the Crown Prince did, in fact, make a habit out of it.

Their weekly ritual became consistently quickly. Cloud was required to train with his squad from sunrise till mid afternoon most days per week and though he had often remained in the training yard with them well into the evening to practice alone, the two of them had decided that meeting some more private better suited their interests.

After all, Clouds peers had little positive to say about the smallest member of their team without him being the centre of attention of a noble and, the prince, while endlessly charming, grew tired of the stares boring into his back whenever he dared to approach the yard. Cloud didn't feel that further spurring the whispers of his _“connections”_ was wise if he wanted to make it any further into knighthood and Zacks preference was to not be constrained to uphold his royal demeanour when he simply wanted to wield a blade.

So, instead, it became habitual for Cloud work with his squad in the mornings as per usual, but leave his individual routines till the evenings when he was free of military duty. The castles rear courtyard, unmaintained it in age and loosely covered in shrubbery and vines, was consistently vacant as dusk approached so Cloud would begin his training there and stay until well after the sun set, at which point, inevitably, the prince would take notice of him from some yonder tower and come to join him.

On this evening, things are as they always had been, the past few weeks. His majesty arrives as the stars began to faintly appear upon the horizon, looking dishevelled but eager, prized Claymore in hand. Cloud had learned about the sword along with other aspects of the princes life on nights such as these.

For instance, he had learned that the princes primary duties included engaging audiences with nobles and councils, often to lease out land for agriculture or development. Sometimes he would participate in legal matters, passing judgement upon criminals or delegating how such manners should be handled. The sword, he learned, was a prize gifted to him by a noble from a foreign land near the Arctic crater (much further north than Cloud could admit to ever having travelled) as thanks for being granted asylum in the kingdom while fleeing from civil war.

“I can't use this anywhere but here,” the prince says exasperated, stretching out the muscles in his shoulders to prepare for their session. “Which is unfortunate because a sword like this really suits my tastes.”

Cloud watches patiently as his highness removes his decorative robes, laying them to rest on on bench placed picturesquely near a long dried up marble fountain. He continues his own routine, taking practised jabs forward into the cool night air. “I'm insulted, Majesty,” he finally replies slyly, revelling in the pout that decorates the princes face at the misinterpretation of his words. Of course he hadn't meant to imply that it was a shame that the sword could only be used in his presence, but teasing his highness in this manner had become a normal occurrence between them. “But what's more insulting is why you insist on using a sword that's nearly as long as you are tall”

The Princes pout deepens as he strokes a ringed finger over the decorative carvings on the blades hilt, clearly enamoured with his personal piece. “It's the sword of a hero” he answers.

Cloud lets his gaze reflect how perplexed he feels, pausing his movements and coming to standstill, allowing the tip of his own rapier to graze the cobblestone at his feet. His sire sighs.

“A sword like this...” he says, giving a test swing — Cloud letting his eyebrows raise in awe at his sire swinging it with only one arm — “..is strong. And a hero needs to be strong.” He punctuates his point with a horizontal slash.

“A hero..” Cloud repeats, pressing a finger thoughtfully to his lips with his free hand, pacing closer to where the prince begins his own practice. “Sire you.. want to be a hero?”

“Yeah!” The prince answers jubilantly, taking a proper two handed stance with his blade. “I want to protect this kingdom and everyone who resides inside it. To do that, I need strength. A hero to the people has to be strong.”

Cloud nods, he does have a point. The kingdom is the young royals responsibility after all, the people of the kingdom, Cloud included, relied on him to lead them to prosperity and to keep them safe. “Correct your feet, highness,” He says offhandedly, noticing the princes toes pointing inward. “Sink down further into your stance, lower your centre of gravity”

The prince nods, his chin ducking briefly to ensure his adjustments are correct before continuing his practice swings. “You're a good teacher Cloud!” He says on an exhale, holding the blade with square arms. “My uh.. teacher.. the one I told you about? He said the same thing about this sword as you did. Thought it was ridiculous, won't even train me with it at all.”

Cloud laughs, pacing in circles around him, watching to ensure that his form doesn't slack as a consequence of their conversation. “Of course highness. You heart is in the right place welding it, but honestly it's ridiculous.”

“Hey now!” The prince calls at him, the sound punctuated by renewed sound of the blade slicing through the air. “If you got hit with this, you'd be having a bad time!”

“That's true,” Cloud agrees, his hand coming to press into the small of Zack's back to correct his posture. “But strength isn’t everything”

His highness sighs dramatically, leaving his stance and turning to face Cloud directly. It's quickly growing dark, but up this close Cloud can see the exasperation clear as day on his face. “He says the same thing! He's all about speed, y'know? Always saying the strength will come with being able to move quickly and effectively! That's it not the sword that should be doing the work, that the wielders job. Meanwhile he's got a sword that's as long as mine is wide..”

The young princeling prattles off his woes dramatically and animatedly. Cloud can't help but chuckle quietly in the wake of the princes frustrations. In their frequent meetings over the past few weeks he's gotten the chance to know this side of the prince. A young man, like himself, not as infallible or untouchable as all believed (and expected) of royalty. On one level, at least, the prince struggled in the same way as them all. He too, wasn't quite as free to do as he pleased, even being the ruler of an entire country. And, after all, Cloud certainly didn't have a private teacher, but he sure did hate having their drill commanders correct his methods and techniques.

“I think balance is best,” he interrupts, only smiling when Zack snaps out of his train of though to blurt out a surprised “ _huh?_ ”.

Carefully, he sets his own blade inside its sheath. It's clear the two of them are going to talk tonight instead of spar, which, if he's being honest with himself, is something he's starting to prefer.

“I think there's merit is strength, Sire”, he begins, enjoying that he seems to have the princes undivided attention. “But there's merit in speed and strategy as well. Just being able to hit hard isn't enough if you're inaccurate, foolish or run out of stamina”

The prince hums.

“That's a pretty neutral line of thought, but it makes sense. You're a pretty laid back person huh Spiky?”

Cloud feels himself go a little red at that sudden new nickname. “I try my best..” he trails softly. “I'm not particularly strong, or quick. I'm smaller than most other soldiers and I'm not from around here either.”

He feels himself deflating as the prince stares at him. The moonlight illuminating the princes face shows that he's listening intently as he holds his place a few inches from where Cloud stands. Cloud lets his arms wrap around himself, suddenly feeling exposed.

“I want to be a hero too,” he continues “There are.. people at home I need to look out for. I came here to gain the strength to do that. I need to be a balanced fighter so I can do that.”

His highness nods understandingly, breaking his fixation on Cloud for the moment. Cloud lets himself think, fleetingly, that he likes how the moonlight casts shadows on his face.

“That's pretty admirable,” his prince decides. “I can respect wanting to be well rounded but I'm kinda surprised, you joined the infantry for that reason alone?”

The question didn't shock him. It was no secret that almost all who joined the infantry intended to pursue knighthood and the Calvary, after all he was no different. Such a profession was lucrative: Life in the castle living richly amongst the nobles, a lavish wage and larger degrees of personal freedom were deeply enticing to many. If Cloud were honest with himself  of course such things were appealing to to him too, but he hadn't come here only for riches or fame.

“That's pretty rare,” the Prince says, interrupting his thoughts. “Most people come to the capital for fame and fortune, or for the chance to carve out their names on the battlefield”

Cloud shakes he his head sadly.

  
“I wish there could be no more battles... no more fighting.”

The Prince tilts his head inquisitively, eyes wide and confused, as if it were heathenish that a member of the military would want to see the end of battle.

“My father,” Cloud admits — when did this midnight training session turn into him spilling himself anyway, they were supposed to be practising — “I never met him. He died during an anti-royalist movement in our village. It was just my mom and I at home..”

He stops when he feels a hand clamp against his shoulder. Suddenly Zack is very close, a hairs breath a way from him, his eyes searching Cloud for what, he wasn't sure.

“I'm sorry,” he says simply as if realising that this is prying into more than what Cloud is comfortable with sharing. Unintentionally, Cloud lets himself melt into the warmth of his hand, tiling his head sideways to rest his cheek on the dorsal side of it, the princes knuckles gently denting his cheek. 

“It's fine,” he says simply. “Nibleheim was always full of activity like that. It probably always will be.”

“ _Nibleheim_ ” the Prince repeats and Cloud feels the hand retract from his shoulder to curl its fingers and rest inquisitively against his highness lips. It's his turn to tilt his head and stare as the Prince becomes lost in his thoughts.

“You know Nibleheim, Sire?” he asks, although the princes reply doesn't surprise him. Nibleheim was renown within the kingdom. Locked well on it's icy outskirts, resources were scarce save for natural springs forming deep within its mountains. The village Cloud had called home his entire life was poor, with many struggling to feed their families and the nearness to wealthier villages belonging to other kingdoms only encouraged civil unrest in the area. It didn't surprise him in the least that prince knew of Nibleheim. It had been and remained still, an active hotbed of anti royalist crime and activity.

“Recently miscreants from that region have been terrorizing nearby cities,” the prince says carefully. “With the annual royal address it seems they've been surging in further southward, there's worry that we'll be targeted”

“I know,” Cloud answers,  cautiously. He's briefly worried that perhaps the Prince is suddenly suspect of him but invests no further thought into it. “My squad has been assigned as one of many to your protection.”

Cloud begins the process of gathering his belongings. He hadn't brought much with him - just his sword, a light tunic, and a small satchel of personal effects – but it was getting late now and he'd have to rise early for drills in the morning. Talk of the royal address was a reminder that he, like his squad mates, was expected to be in perfect form the day of. It didn't seem like they were going to get any more training done anyhow.

“Really?” the prince gasps, hands clasping together excitedly, all thought of crime apparently vanishing from his thought at the statement. “I'll have to look for you then!”

“You're welcome to try, highness,” he says brightly, watching as the prince too collects his blade and robes from where they've been neatly set on a courtyard bench. “I doubt you'll be able to pick me out in the crowd though.”

The prince snorts, walking backwards towards the secret entrance he snuck out of. “Don't you doubt me spiky, I'll definitely be finding you!”

Cloud lets himself smile softly as he watches the the prince stop in the archway, confident and proud. Positively radiant if he dared let himself think it. “Then I'll be waiting for you, Sire.”

The prince nods, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway, his voice carrying warmly through the night air.

“It's a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! More info dumping and character development? I should have mentioned this would be slow burn-ish.  
> Next time: Some action I promise! But no, not that kind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while (i'm really sorry).  
> I figured I would put this out during Clack week to make up for the delay (i'm sorry). Please forgive my egregious errors and enjoy!

 

He waits patiently from his position just shy of the marble archway that defines the entrances to the kingdoms banquet hall. A podium is in view, along with the balcony it sits on. He'll be expected to stand their momentarily and deliver his address to the populace. If he squints hard enough he can see throngs of people in the distance, the crowed stretched wide beyond his peripheral vision. The masses have all gathered to hear him speak, as is traditional in their tiny but close knit country. With the tail end of the parade procession having just concluded, the master of ceremonies, a popular chancellor on his high commission, is wrapping up the initial welcomes as the excitement in the air begins to die down.

 

The prince lets himself tug uncomfortably at collar of his heavy robes. With the heat blazing once again, the expectation that he be decked in velvets and furs is more aggravating than usual. He understand that these things are a display of his wealth and power to his people – proof that their nation is strong and prosperous – but he'd much rather be without the fancy furs and gold chains and wear the loosely draped linens more prevalent amongst commoners.

 

He fiddles absentmindedly with the jewelry dangling heavily off of his neck, fog gently accumulating on the ridges of opalescent beads from the heat radiating off his body. Carefully, he adjusts them to keep the light refracting off of them from stinging his eyes. From the cover of the shadow in the buildings galley he's acceptably just out of the suns rays, but not for long.

 

Gazing back out into the crowd he's anxious, for hidden amongst all of those in the crowd, there's still been one person he's been hoping to spot. From his current perch it's hard to see those who might be at the head of gathering off to his right. He knows that his guards, dutiful and loyal, a stationed there to watch over him. Secretly he hopes that Cloud hasn't secretly been re-assigned to some other duty today. While talking to people is something that comes naturally to him, giving speeches still makes him nervous and he knows he'd feel better if he could just focus one face in the crowd.

 

As the chancellor signals his own end to a ruckus of applause, the prince knows he'll only have a few moments to scan the front row before he takes his place before it. Perhaps, if he's lucky, Cloud will smile up at him when their eyes meet.

 

* * *

 

 

As the counselor finishes speaking, Cloud finds his eyes immediately glued to the entrance to the building. Unconsciously he straightens his posture – feet together, chest forward, shoulders back, chin up – as he see's his prince emerge to the stage amidst a roar of deafening cheers. Elegantly the prince strides forward, graceful and flawless as always. A lone hand cups the air to give a gentle royal wave and Cloud notices that while his head remains transfixed forward facing, his eyes are furiously scanning the crowd.

 

Cloud finds he has to stop himself before is thoughts lead him to assume that the prince is looking for _him_ but then their eyes meet and suddenly, despite his the decorative full body armour he's clad in, feels momentarily weightless. 

 

The prince settles himself behind the podium with a smile flashed clearly direct. He feels his chest grow tight – to be the focus of Zack's attention amongst all of these people! – But the moment ends quickly when he becomes aware that the slightly nauseated feeling never fades. The tug at his stomach, the one he mistook for butterflies is now apparent and nagging.

 

 

Quite suddenly, the air is too stale and the square too quiet. Eerily he can feel pinpricks over his skin as goosebumps rise over his limbs and a wave in inexplicable anxiety rides him. For a hairs breath of second he can't quite pinprick just what about the situation feels so wrong right now, until a glint of light from the balcony about the podium catches his eye.

 

* * *

 

It's once he's standing in the light that he realizes just how many people are present today. He's been royalty his entire life but he's so unused to seeing this many people gather to any event in the kingdom before. The span of people that were hidden to his right before is much more vast than he had previously thought. Four rows of people, 20 people long each and spanning further through the city streets than his eye could see.... he wondered if his speech was really worth so much attention. It was his first time giving a personal address, but to say the least, their presence was deeply humbling.

 

Abundantly aware that with this amount of people, the time he has to pick out a certain guardsman face is severely limited, he lets his eyes drift quickly over the faces he could catch in his line of sight. He's lucky, given the occasion none of the military should be wearing helmets right now and further Cloud has such distinctive features that he'd be even easier to spot. (Cloud had pouted quite angrily at him when he'd compared his wild hair to a certain breed of feathered companions they kept in the kingdom stables).

 

When he finally spots Clouds face in the crowd however, he's shocked that not only is Cloud not looking at him, but that the expression on his face is a mix of emotions he's never seen on his face before. For a moment he see's the faintest flicker of Joy, with a sparkle behind he's eyes that he's not sure how to describe before suddenly they dull and becomes voids of was looks like fear with the slightest burn of anger. Before he can contemplate further on what the expression Cloud wears means, his own eyes follow their gaze upwards to see what exactly has entranced is guard. Without warning he feels his heart stutter still in his chest, his entire body suddenly locked into place when he see's whats approaching him from directly above.

 

* * *

 

Without thinking he charges forward from his place amongst the guard, sloppily drawing the rapier at his hip from it's sheath as he runs. He stumbles on the cobblestone, adrenaline already making him woozy. The high of fear and desperation spurning him towards the prince.

 

It happens in slow motion.

 

Zack's expression, locked upwards as if he were paralyzed, transforms from mild confusion to pure dread. Cloud feels damn near helpless as he watches the princes unsteady hand fling towards his back at a sword that is most definitely not there. He's completely defenses out in the open, the nearest blade is the one steps away clutched in Clouds clammy the nearest one still steps away clutched in Clouds doleful grip.

 

All can do is yell in desperado as the tip of his blade just barely catches the guard of another coming from above.

 

* * *

 

Before he can really wrap his head around what he's seeing he feels a body slam into his. A tuft a blonde hair evades his knows and with a wheeze he feels a shoulder plate pressed against his rib as the two of them are sent sprawling to the ground, his head cracking painfully against the cobblestone. He's disoriented entirely for a moment before he registers the feeling of the strangers weight removing itself from his chest and a wave of dizziness passes over him before he registers that the person standing before him is Cloud. The young man nearly drops his sword in the effort to defend against his assailants second strike.

 

The entity before them wears all black, face and hair shrouded in a cloth with only the glint of cool large brown eyes visible on the tiny strip of remaining exposed skin. A decorative hair tie dangling loosely from beneath a bandana was the only touch of color in their ensemble, the yellow ribbon floating gently in the air a strange peaceful contrast to their murderous aura. It's clear to them both who this assassins focus is clear as their eyes gaze far beyond Cloud.

 

Fear freezes him into the spot were he lays, defenseless, as his attacker dashes forward a small dagger in hand poised for a killing blow. He prays under his that Cloud, who stumbles repeatedly and seems barely oriented enough to continue parrying, wins this battle.

 

* * *

 

 

Before he can lose his footing again, his fellow members of the royal guard rush forward. The moment the assailant is captured, hissing as their face is pressed into the ground beneath the weight of foot soldiers, he lets himself clatter weakly to his knees.

 

His head spins and for a moment he feels like he might vomit, the adrenaline of the moment fading and leaving him feeling exhausted and faint. It's all he can do to keep himself upright, with frantic breaths forcing air into his oxygen deprived lungs. He takes a moment to throw his tunnel vision gaze backwards over his shoulder towards the beneficiary of his makeshift offense.

 

“Are you.. Alright?” he wheezes backward at the prince, whose sprawled form he can barely make out with his blurry gaze. A thought at the back of his mind points out that he hadn't even bothered to check to see if Zack were wounded. Had he been stabbed? Had he arrived a moment too late?

 

The princes warm arms, suddenly squeezing tightly around his shoulders and wringing precious air he had previous been gasping into his lungs, inform him otherwise.

 

“You saved me” the prince all but squeals, mouth gaping open while his eyes searched Cloud in what seemed to be disbelief. “Cloud you're... just... incredible! That was amazing!”

 

Unable to think of a suitable response, he hums, nuzzling into the princes embrace before lets himself becoming blinded by the havoc that ensues around them.

 

Quickly the royal cavalry is summoned forward, further restraining the would-be assassin while attempting to usher his majesty out of the limelight and into safety. The princes grip on Clouds shoulders never loosens and Cloud can only focus on his excited praise as they dip back into the building with their escort.

 

Wrapped carefully in his sires warm embrace, the droning voices of panicked officials and screaming villagers is drowned out by the thudding of his heartbeat in his ears. He's not sure if its from the shock of everything he's experienced, but the heat in his chest seeing Zack's beaming proud smile convinces him at least that for the moment, everything is alright.


End file.
